FORGIVE MY languor, O Lord,
if ever I lag behind
upon life's way.
Forgive my anguished heart
which trembles and hesitates
in its service.
Forgive my fondness
that lavishes its wealth
upon an unprofitable past.
Forgive these faded flowers
in my offering
that wilt in the fierce heat
of panting hours.

THE BOISTEROUS spring, who once came into my life with its lavish laughter, burdening her hours with improvident roses, setting skies aflame with the red kisses of new-born ashoka leaves, now comes stealing into my solitude through the lonely lanes along the breeding shadows heavy with silence, and sits still in my balcony gazing across the fields, where the green of the earth swoons exhausted in the utter paleness of the sky.

           আশীর্বাদপত্রী
শ্রীমান প্রেমোৎপল
শ্রীমতী অমিয়া
           বিকশি কল্যাণবৃন্তে যুগলের হিয়া
           অন্তরে অমর হোক প্রেমের অমিয়া।